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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26567539">An Idiot in Love</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sophia_Bee/pseuds/Sophia_Bee'>Sophia_Bee</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Old Guard: Does What it Says on the Tin [5]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Old Guard (Comics), The Old Guard (Movie 2020)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Awkward Blow Jobs, Boys In Love, Didn't Know They Were Dating, Dorks in Love, Happy Ending, Idiots in Love, Joe in Chaps, Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani and Nicky | Nicolò di Genova are in Love, M/M, Minor Andy | Andromache of Scythia/Nile Freeman, Nicky is Stuck in His Head, Not immortal, Prequel</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 10:28:14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>11,409</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26567539</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sophia_Bee/pseuds/Sophia_Bee</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A prequel to <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26500993">Accidental Dating</a> where Nicky is the idiot who has pined for a decade and everyone around him except Joe knows it.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Old Guard: Does What it Says on the Tin [5]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1867000</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>426</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>An Idiot in Love</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>always thanks to <b>Leafeylocket</b> who is captive to my crazy head canons. I really loved writing this so a thanks goes to all the comments that asked for a Nicky POV. xoxo</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Nicky sleeps with a lot of people who are not Joe. He actually has a 100% perfect record of not sleeping with Joe.  Nicky is not only very accomplished at not sleeping with Joe, he is also the best boyfriend Joe has never actually dated. </p><p>At least that’s what Nile tells him. Right after she calls him an idiot and just before she punches him on the shoulder. </p><p>“I should drop you to the ground,” Nicky growls. </p><p>“You should tell him how you feel.” </p><p>“He’s with Patrick.”</p><p> Nile takes a drink of her coffee then gives Nicky a pointed look. “Fuck Patrick.” </p><p>Nicky sighs heavily at how simple Nile seems to think this is. Nothing is simple when you pine for eight years. Every year that has passed by has made everything that much more complicated. He looks at Nile as if she’s said something truly idiotic. </p><p>“See. That’s the problem. He’s fucking Patrick.” </p><p>Nile rolls her eyes. “Patrick is a cunt. He’s fucking a bloody cunt.”</p><p>Nicky snorts. He's not even sure if Nile has met Patrick but cunt is an apt description. He screws his face into an exaggerated frown and directs it her way. </p><p>“It’s not nice to insult all the perfectly nice cunts in the world.” </p><p>Nile grins at this, and Nicky should have known not to trust that grin based on what comes out of her mouth next. “Well, if I knew you thought so highly of cunts I’d offer you mine as a consolation prize….” </p><p>“NILE!” </p><p>It’s not like Joe hasn’t dated before. The first had been Derek from the club. Derek hadn’t been too bad. Mainly because Nicky hadn’t quite yet realized he was head over heels in love with Joe at that time. It’s easier to play the part of best friend when you actually are the best friend and you’re not just pretending to be the best friend but are really the idiot who is hopelessly in love with his best friend, the one who never seems to notice this particular fact. Nicky shakes his head as he realizes he’s actually managed to confuse himself with this particular train of thought. </p><p>Nadia had been particularly hard. Nicky had gone to pick out wedding rings and endured listening to Joe tell him she was Muslim and his parents would like her, which to Nicky’s ears was code for she has a uterus and is the key to the heterosexual dream of 2.5 kids. Not that Nadia was that bad. She was actually really nice and she would cook with Nicky. In the end Joe just didn’t actually want to marry her. She’s married to a boy from her hometown now, living in Michigan and has 2.5 kids. Well maybe just two kids and a dog. Their faces stare at Nicky from the holiday cards she sends Joe every year.</p><p>Giorgio was a blue-eyed Italian with reddish gold hair who looked like he could be Nicky’s brother. Nicky felt a small flame of hope start to flicker that maybe, just maybe Joe was using his dating choices to send a message.  Or maybe it was that he had a thing for pale-eyed men with reddish hair and Italian heritage. If that was the case, Nicky might have just offered himself up. Then Giorgio had suggested a three-way and Joe had sent him packing. </p><p>The next was Scott. Well, not really. Between Giorgio and Scott came a parade of men and women whose names Nicky can’t really remember. Scott, he would like to forget. </p><p>Nicky had wanted to punch Scott in the nose the first time he met him. He wore a perpetually smug look and had an equally annoying preppy haircut and rode an expensive Italian motor bike that only a massive douchebag would own. But Joe was happy and that was all that counted, so Nicky smiled and gave his tacit blessing when Joe eagerly asked him what he thought. The urge to punch Scott didn’t change for the whole two long years Joe had dated him. Luckily they were both deployed for a good part of that time, one tour actually together, so Nicky didn’t have to share Joe too much or actually spend that much time with Scott. In the end Scott had declared that he didn’t want to be a military spouse and had left Joe broken hearted, which made Nicky want to hunt him down and give him the punch in the nose he should have given him the first time he met him. </p><p>Now it was Patrick. </p><p>“Paaaatrick,” Nicky sing-songs in a high pitched voice just before he lets out a little growl and pulls a face like he’s ten years old. Next to him Nile collapses in a fit of laughter and Nicky thinks she’s about to spill her coffee. He briefly considers reaching to grab it, saving her jeans from certain disaster then reconsiders. She deserves it. Then again, she did call Patrick a cunt…. Nile snorts but doesn’t drop the cup. Nicky will need to find another form of revenge. </p><p>“You’re an idiot,” she says as she stands up, looking around for a trash bin. Her eyes brighten as she locates one then she starts walking towards it. “Don’t forget Andy is outlining the new job at thirteen hundred.” Nile calls over her shoulder as she walks back towards HQ. </p><p>“See you there,” Nicky answers. He watches her walk away then pulls out his phone to check his texts. Who is Nicky kidding? He's checking to see what JOE texted him. Nicky quickly scrolls through a NYT article, a link to a heated blanket on Amazon that Joe seems to think Nicky needs for his couch and three pictures of Joe’s goddamned cat. Joe loves that cat. Just as Nicky is about to go check his email, another text from Joe comes through. </p><p>
  <i>I get in at seventeen hundred. Indian?</i>
</p><p>Nicky smiles. Indian food means only one thing. He texts back to confirm it.</p><p>
  <i>No P?</i>
</p><p>Nicky’s phone plinks.</p><p>
  <i>Business trip.</i>
</p><p>Nicky’s smile grows wider. </p><p>
  <i>Indian sounds good.</i>
</p><p>Joe loves Indian food. Patrick says it’s cheap college student food and always talks Joe into some hipster place with impeccable decor and pork belly on the menu. Another reason Patrick is a cunt. If Joe wants Indian food, he should have Indian food and Patrick can fuck off. At least Indian food is still for Joe and Nicky and Joe and Nicky only. </p><p>Nicky glances at his watch. 30 minutes until the meeting. Joe will be joining them via Zoom from Chicago where he’s wrapping up a meeting with the client who hired them for the job the meeting is about. Nicky steeles himself to make sure he doesn’t let loose the sloppy grin he can’t always control when he sees Joe. Nile will never let him live it down and before long he’ll be trapped in another lecture about his non-existent love life. And Andy will kick him under the table. She kicks hard. He crumples his coffee cup, stands up and heads for the same trash bin to throw it away, a goofy smile on his face. </p><p>Nicky hasn’t always been in love with his best friend. He actually hated Joe when he first met him. He was a pompous bastard so Nicky took great pleasure in bloodying his nose the first time they were paired for training during basic. He can still remember the look of shock and fury on Joe’s face as he stared at Nicky, blood dripping down his face, into his mouth, his teeth red from it. Nicky had only seconds to enjoy the fact that he’d clocked the asshole before Joe surged forward and gave as good as he got. Nicky can still remember the pain and the warmth of blood gushing from his nose. Joe can throw a damn good punch when pissed. </p><p>Nicky learned later that Joe’s bravado was something other than cockiness. After beating the shit out of each other for weeks Nicky had popped Joe’s dislocated shoulder back in and offered to buy him a beer. It seemed mostly fair since Nicky had been the one to dislocate it in the first place. That was when Joe told Nicky it was hard to be Arab in the states and in the military. Especially post 9/11. </p><p>“I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been told to go home. And worse” Joe had said, his eyes sad.  “I had to learn to fight.” </p><p>Nicky had found himself enthralled with the sadness in those eyes and with the person they belonged to. Who beats the shit out of you then drinks beer with you while telling you how living in his own country has been a struggle. Joe, that’s who. </p><p>Joe had taken a long swallow of beer then told Nicky that he always had to be better than everyone, to prove himself. That he hated that people thought he wasn’t American enough to be in the military. That THIS was his home. Where did they want him to go? That it hurt. His words made Nicky ache and he couldn’t think of anything to say back. Partly because he had no words for shitty prejudice and mostly because he was suddenly struck by just what a surprise the man who had been his mortal enemy just hours ago had turned out to be. </p><p>He should have just kissed him then. </p><p>Maybe if he'd kissed him Nicky wouldn’t be sitting here hopelessly in love with his best friend for eight and a half years. Maybe they would have fucked, even dated, and Nicky would have gotten Joe out of his system. They probably would have fought and broken up, and Nicky wouldn’t be pining like a lovesick teenager or dealing with his nosey coworkers.  </p><p>Maybe. </p><p>But Nicky had no idea Joe was queer and if he wasn’t it might have gone poorly. They were sitting at the bar of a TGIFridays in fucking Florida, the worst place for a guy to kiss anothet guy. Plus it was just all kinds of wrong to be crushing on the guy who had punched you in the gut five times that week. So he didn’t lean in and kiss Joe. But he should have. </p><p>Instead they became best friends. </p><p>It had only been a few months later when Nicky figured out Joe was queer. Joe has this really cute story about how he ditched Nicky to go to the club to hook up only to have Nicky coincidentally show up. It’s adorable and Nicky never corrects him. The real story is Nicky had dressed up like he was meeting a date and had gone to the club on purpose to find Joe after Joe ditched him on movie night. The other part of the real story is he already knew Joe liked cock. It turns out Joe is really bad at hiding his dirty magazines and Nicky is a bit of a creeper. He should have kissed Joe right then. He should have marched out of the bedroom, porn clutched in his hand, declared his undying love, and let the chips fall where they may. Or the LIPS fall where they may. Nicky chuckles to himself on that one. Instead he’s stuck in the friend zone and Joe is dating the totally undeserving Patrick.  </p><p>Patrick becomes an even more undeserving asshole three days later. Nicky is sitting at his kitchen table, browsing a cooking magazine trying to figure out a recipe for the dinner he cooks every Wednesday, when he hears his phone chime. It’s Joe’s sound. Nicky glances at it wondering what Joe thinks he needs to buy off Amazon. </p><p>
  <i>I think he’s the one.</i>
</p><p>Nicky squeezes his eyes shut. Goddamn it. It’s Nadia all over again but at least Nicky liked Nadia. Nicky takes in a breath and decides to play dumb. </p><p>
  <i>Luke Evans is out of your league.</i>
</p><p>It’s a lie. No one is out of Joe’s league. </p><p>
  <i>No, you idiot. P. I’m going to ask him.</i>
</p><p>Nicky stares at the phone. His chest hurts. He’s grateful Joe didn’t decide to tell him in person. It would be hard to convince him that his sobbing was from pure joy. He can’t text back right away. </p><p>
  <i>You’ll be my best man, right?</i>
</p><p>A huge, tired sigh escaped from Nicky. Great. Just what he needs. They can go for tux fittings and Joe can tell Nicky that he can’t dance to save his life and would Nicky PLEASE take dancing lessons with him so he can surprise his new husband, and Nicky can slowly die inside. Sounds just about right for the dumpster fire that is Nicky’s life. The sound of another text coming through startles Nicky out of the homo version of the My Best Friend’s Wedding disaster he’s created in his head. </p><p>
  <i>Nicky?</i>
</p><p>Nicky thinks of the one million totally terrible things he could text back, including begging Joe to dump Patrick and love him instead. Instead he settles on something he knows will make Joe smile. </p><p><i>Slow down cowboy. Let him say yes first.</i> </p><p>“Imagine, a Muslim cowboy.” Joe laughed the first time Nicky had called him that. Nicky had done just that and had blushed as he pictured Joe in chaps and nothing else. Yee haw. </p><p>Patrick doesn’t say yes. Joe gets down on one knee and tells Patrick he wants to love him for the rest of their lives, to be his fucking husband, and Patrick doesn’t say yes. He actually lets someone as amazing and funny and hot and smart as Yusuf Al-Kaysani get away. Because Patrick is the biggest cunt on the face of the Earth. Nicky knows this because he texts Joe three hours after he was going to pop the question.</p><p>
  <i>So? Are you engaged?</i>
</p><p>Joe doesn’t answer right away and Nicky secretly hopes he’s interrupting their fucking. This is immediately followed by the unbidden image of Joe and Patrick fucking which makes Nicky want to scrub his brain. Then he decides to just keep the image of Joe’s naked ass. He’s so busy imagining that ass that he almost misses Joe texting back. Nicky lifts his phone to read it and his mouth goes dry. </p><p>
  <i>He said no.</i>
</p><p>Nicky can’t remember the drive to Joe’s house. He’s pretty sure he breaks a land speed record in his Prius. The one Joe makes fun of, telling Nicky he’s way too badass to drive that car. Nicky always answers that only Joe knows that on the inside Nicky is all Prius. All he can remember is how Joe opens the door before Nicky can even knock and without a word practically crawls into his arms. Because heartbreak sucks and holding you through it is what best friends are for. Nicky wraps his arms around Joe’s back, lets Joe bury his head in his shoulder and holds him as if he’ll never let him go. Given the choice, he never would, but that’s not Nicky’s choice to make. It was Patrick’s and he made the wrong one. </p><p>After a long time they both realize they’re getting hot and sweaty. Nicky’s shirt is wet from Joe’s tears, his hands gripping Joe’s sides and they are still in the doorway. Nicky slides his hands to Joe’s arms as he walks Joe backwards, shutting the door with his foot. He takes in Joe’s face: eyes red-rimmed and swollen; nose running. He’s a mess; an utterly lovely mess. Nicky hates Patrick even more. </p><p>“He’s a cunt,” Nicky says, his voice sharp and angry. Joe lets out a short, sharp laugh and sniffs loudly. “He doesn’t deserve you.” </p><p>Nicky moves closer. He tilts his head forward and places one soft kiss on Joe’s forehead, his hands still gripping Joe’s arms. Joe is very still. </p><p>“I’m a little drunk,” Joe whispers, staring at him. “No, maybe a lot. God, I don’t know.” </p><p>Nicky ignores him as he kisses Joe’s right cheek, the edge of his beard scratchy under his lips. He closes his eyes briefly at the feel of it. He kisses his left cheek after that. Because it seems a shame to kiss just one cheek when the other exists. Joe’s skin is so warm and the smell of whisky and his fancy beard oil, the one he uses when he dresses up, fills Nicky’s nostrils. Finally Nicky releases Joe’s arms, bringing his hands up to cup Joe’s face. He stares into those heartbroken eyes. </p><p>“Want to know why Patrick is a cunt?” Nicky feels Joe’s head nod ‘yes’ almost imperceptibly. He sucks in a deep breath and says one of those little facts about Joe he usually carries in secret. “Because he had the greatest guy on the face of this earth and he let him go.” </p><p>With that statement hanging between them, Nicky kisses Joe on the lips. It’s a kiss between friends. Best friends. It’s a kiss meant to soothe, to make him feel better, to tell Joe he’s not alone. It’s not a kiss that needs a kiss back. Except it seems Joe is kissing him back anyway. Nicky’s brain shorts out. Joe is kissing him BACK. </p><p>Um. </p><p>Nicky keeps kissing Joe because Joe is kissing him back, and it’s a bajillion times better than he had ever imagined, and stopping would be impolite. Wouldn’t it? Then Nicky’s tongue is slipping into Joe’s mouth and sliding against Joe’s tongue, because if you’re going to kiss your best friend to comfort him, he really should be thoroughly kissed. Anything else is just rude. Or maybe because this is actually a dream or Nicky has slipped through a  hole in the time-space continuum and is now in an alternative universe where he isn’t stuck in the best friend zone. Nicky keeps kissing Joe, wet, sloppy uncoordinated open mouthed kisses, all while he screams <i>JOE IS KISSING ME BACK</i> inside his head. </p><p>Nicky feels Joe’s hands on his waist for a moment then they move to grip at his hips ever so briefly just before they slide up under Nicky’s favorite worn gray T-shirt, the one with the tiny hole in the shoulder and the unraveling seam, and for a brief moment Nicky thinks he would have dressed better if he’d known he was going to end up making out with his best friend in an effort to comfort him. It’s a totally absurd thought that is gone within seconds, chased away by the feeling of Joe’s big warm palms pressed against Nicky’s overheated skin. Nicky moans against Joe’s increasingly persistent mouth. </p><p>“Fuck me,” Joe whispers hoarsely against Nicky’s mouth and the feel of his hot breath on Nicky’s lips is better than… oh god, Nicky can’t think. Better than ANYTHING. Joe follows up by touching his forehead to Nicky’s as he lets out a soft ‘please’. Nicky’s head explodes. </p><p>Boom. </p><p>He probably should push Joe away and take a moment to catch his breath and think about what Joe is asking and what it means. That would be prudent. Maybe even smart. Then again, Joe is hurting, and he asked, and is there anything Nicky wouldn’t do for Joe? Nicky’s increasingly hard cock and the dizzying feel of Joe kissing him and the way he can’t bear the idea of stopping touching him makes it very hard to think which makes fucking Joe seem reasonable. No more or less reasonable than fetching him a blanket and a hot cup of tea. Plus, he asked very politely. There’s only one answer Nicky can give to Joe’s request. </p><p>“Okay.” </p><p>Nicky crushes his mouth to Joe’s before Joe can answer anything back, dreading the chance that any semblance of sanity might inject itself into this situation since now it’s clear that the kisses he and Joe are exchanging are not about comfort. Joe’s hard cock pressing into him makes that crystal clear. He should stop this, should step back and force them to have the conversation that everyone in Nicky’s life keeps telling him he needs to have, but Nicky just can’t. How can you tell your best friend that you’ve been in love with him pretty much since you met. It sounds way less complicated just to fuck his brains out and never say anything. </p><p>Nicky’s hands slide from Joe’s arms to the button on the waistband of his jeans, his fingers feeling clumsy and uncoordinated as he tries to make quick work of undressing Joe. He just needs to unbutton, pull down the zip, then he can sink to his knees….</p><p>“No,” Joe hisses just before Nicky kisses him. Nicky breaks away and Joe looks at him for a long moment, and Nicky can’t help but feel physical pain from the grief on his friend’s face. He releases his grip on Joe’s waistband and grabs his hand. In the last approximately five to seven minutes he has touched Joe in ways he has only been able to dream of yet this one simple act, taking Joe’s hand in his own, feels more profound than anything that came before it. </p><p>“Joe,” Nicky starts, wanting to tell Joe so many things, maybe all the things, and he’s not sure he can trust might come out of his mouth next when Joe interrupts him. </p><p>“Nicky. Please. I just… I can’t….” </p><p>Nicky stills. His stomach ties itself into a knot. He looks at Joe who looks back at him with an almost indescribable look on his face. Nicky feels his heart beating in his chest, can hear it in his ears. There is a lump in his throat as he waits to hear what Joe can’t do. Nicky can’t stop his brain from anticipating what might come out of Joe’s mouth next: he can’t do this; he can’t let Nicky fuck him like he asked; he can’t ruin their friendship; he can’t….”</p><p>“Just… not here.” Joe gasps, looking miserable. “My bedroom.” </p><p>Relief floods through Nicky and he looks at Joe - really looks at him. His face is pale and drawn, eyes blood shot. Nicky has been by Joe’s side through some truly harrowing situations and seen Joe in pretty rough shape but nothing like this. Nicky silently curses Patrick as he watches Joe sway and his hand comes up to steady him. He suddenly remembers he’s still holding Joe’s hand. He squeezes it and starts making his way to Joe’s bedroom, tugging Joe along behind him. </p><p>Nicky cannot stop to even think about the strangeness of this situation. If he stops he will say something stupid, like ‘are you sure’ and then they will talk and Joe will tell him it’s all a mistake, but thank you for being the best friend in the entire world and being willing to do anything for him. No, Nicky doesn’t want that. It’s too sensible. It’s too safe. He’s wanted to fuck Joe for the last eight and half years and now Joe is asking. He should not ruin this moment with logic. </p><p>When they get to Joe’s room and Joe’s bed, Joe turns to Nicky and wraps himself around him, holding onto him so tight Nicky can only take in short, shallow breaths. It’s as if he’s the only thing keeping Joe from being swept away. Nicky can feel every place where Joe is pressed against him, from thigh to chest, can feel how his hands press against his back, his fingers splayed out, can feel the inhalation and exhalation of Joe’s breath where his face is buried against his shoulder. He feels Joe lift his head and hears him say his name. Not the name he uses every day, the same one everyone uses. HIS name, his full name. </p><p>“Nicolo.”</p><p>Nicky breaks wide open. </p><p>Their mouths meet, and this time it’s not a kiss meant to comfort or console. This time there is intent. The kind of intent that needs no explanation. Suddenly the entire room is sparking with energy and urgency, and Nicky’s hands are sliding up and down Joe almost compulsively, not quite knowing what they want but knowing they want <i>something</i>. Joe seems to understand because he pushes away from Nicky and suddenly they are both frantically undressing, jeans going one way, t-shirts another, then they are back together, pressing against each other, but this time they are warm and naked and aroused and it’s so perfect Nicky thinks he could cry from how amazing Joe feels. </p><p>Eight years. Eight long years. </p><p>Part of Nicky wants to pretend this is something other than what it is. Part of him wants to pretend it’s the end of all his waiting and pining and standing to the side as Joe lived part of his life without him. He knows that’s not what this is about. He knows Joe needs to touch, to feel, because there is part of him that has been broken. And Nicky knows Joe only wants to feel better. But still, there is this little light inside him; a flicker of hope that maybe, just maybe this is more than that. </p><p>They tumble onto the bed, hands everywhere, Nicky on his back, Joe above him. Nicky lifts his head, trying to get another kiss, and then maybe another, only to have Joe pull away. It seems that although Nicky wants to continue plundering Joe’s truly lovely mouth, Joe has other plans, like tasting the skin on his shoulder; pressing a kiss into the hollow of his throat, licking his way down his chest and finally softly biting at Nicky’s nipple. Good lord Nicky likes that. He arches off the bed and lets out a long string of profanity in more than one language, some of it Joe had taught him over the years. </p><p>“Over.” Nicky growls as he struggles himself upwards, pushing Joe back at the same time, until he can flip Joe onto his back and stare down at him. It’s a lovely sight but it’s not the reason Nicky changed position. His hands go to Joe’s hips, fingers gripping at the round knob of bone that juts out, pressing Joe back into the bed and Nicky goes down. For a moment Nicky has this delirious random thought that they call it going down because you literally GO DOWN someone. Your face slides down from their face, over their chest, down to where their thighs cradle their cock and the dense curls that surround it, and for some reason this seems both obvious and absurd at the same time, then he realizes he is going down on JOE. </p><p>He’d stopped counting how many times he’d dreamed of this. </p><p>Joe’s cock is thick and erect, already slick with precome but Nicky doesn’t really stop to examine it. He thinks he might regret that later but something about the urgency of this moment calls for economy. Prodigality feels like the enemy, as if it might give them both too much time to think. Instead he releases one of Joe’s hips so he can grip the base with his hand then takes the rest into his mouth with little ceremony, his saliva mixing with Joe’s precome, and he just sucks.  His other hand holds down Joe as his hips buck upwards and Nicky thrills at the strangled cry that emerges from Joe’s open mouth. </p><p>Nicky does this for a while. Not too long. Just long enough to get Joe soaking wet with his saliva and to hear Joe swear in no less than five languages until one of his hands starts to scrabble at the sheets beneath him and the other clamps in Nicky’s hair, pushing at him until he pops off. </p><p>“I was going to come,” Joe gasps in explanation, his breath coming in short, sharp pants. “I didn’t want to.” </p><p>He was going to come. Nicky’s mouth was going to make him come. Nicky sits up and stares at Joe feeling slow and stupid, his mind struggling to function through a haze of lust, until he finally lands on what the next step is. There is always a next step.</p><p>“Lube,” Nicky manages to mutter, his mind muddled and cloudy. “Oh, and, um…” Nicky’s brain struggles with the word, “...condom.” Joe hums his understanding as he stretches his arm towards the night stand, his hand flailing out into nothingness over and over because he can’t reach. Nicky takes pity on him, stretches out until he can reach the drawer then feels around until his hand lands on a cool plastic tube and a small, crinkly packet. He makes a mental note that his hand felt some other rather interesting things in that drawer then he shoves that thought away in the back of his brain just before it starts to short-circuit again at the sound of Joe whimpering. He turns to see Joe watching him with unfocused eyes and the sadness has been replaced by naked want. He looks hungry. His legs are spread out and his lips are slightly parted. Nicky notes the subtle twitch of Joe’s hips as his eyes go to the lube in Nicky's hand, and Nicky isn’t sure he’s ever seen a more beautiful scene. For just a second he thinks he should stop and find a way to capture it; paint it, write it, even grab his cell phone and snap a picture, because this is all he will ever get. The thought makes him ache in a way that doesn’t feel good at all. Then the second is gone as Nicky’s weeping cock, anticipating what comes next, sends a quick shock up to his brain, telling it to get on with the fucking. Nicky obliges. What else can he do?</p><p>The lube is cool and sticky with a light vanilla scent. Nicky likes it. Of course Joe has the best lube. He should ask where he gets it. Then again, maybe not. He squirts it onto his fingers and slides them together, the slickness in itself increasing the anticipation for what comes next. Nicky swallows a groan at the thought. Nicky uses his non-lubed hand to spread Joe wide, enjoying the way Joe arches at his touch. He watches the look on Joe’s face as he presses one of those slicked up fingers to Joe’s hole, rubbing and teasing. It’s nothing less than priceless but even better is the utterly obscene sound that escapes from Joe’s open mouth. </p><p>“Nicolo. Ohhhhhh” </p><p>
  <i>...Nicolo…</i>
</p><p>Nicky wonders what it feels when your heart stops. It must feel like he feels right now because he’s pretty sure it just did. If it stopped and he’s dead, that’s okay. This...Joe, his fingers circling Joe’s hole, the sounds coming out of Joe...it’s enough. Tell people to send donations instead of flowers to his funeral. </p><p>Joe is a whimpering mess when Nicky finally strokes that tight ring of muscle enough for it to relax enough that he can press a finger inward. He slides it inside in one smooth motion then slowly starts to thrust it in and out, in and out again. Joe keens at this change and his legs slam down, feet pushing into the bed as he pushes into Nicky’s touch. Nicky can’t help but grin. Then, feeling inpatient and turned on, he adds a second, and Joe falls even further apart. </p><p>It turns out that Nicky is way too eager to keep this up for very long. He silently apologizes to Joe for what comes next, because in a different situation, if he didn’t feel like he has to gobble up this piece of forbidden fruit as fast as he can before it's ripped away, Nicky would take his time. Instead he gives in to his own impatience and greediness, and to the fullness of his aching cock and the way he feels like he is about the fly apart. He pulls out his fingers, trying to ignore the fact that Joe is now saying his name in a way that Nicky wants to secret away for all the lonely nights ahead. Nicky opens the shiny foil condom packet with his teeth, hoping he looks remotely sexy and guessing he most likely just looks awkward. He rolls the condom on, squeezes more lube into his palm then slicks up his cock. Next he reaches for Joe’s leg, bending it and pushing it upwards until Joe is spread open, hole slick and exposed. Nicky’s heart races and feels like he’s going down a hill at full speed with no way to put on the brakes, heading straight towards a gaping abyss. Despite this he manages to still, just for this moment, just long enough to really look at the man laid out below him. </p><p>There are no words to describe Yusuf Al-Kaysani. He stares up at Nicky with dark, unfocused eyes. His chest heaves with exertion, his skin is flushed and sweaty, and Nicky wants more than anything to taste its salt. He is beautiful; so beautiful that it feels as if he sucks all the air out of the room. All Nicky can think as he stares down at him is what he would say if he could: <i>I have loved you forever</i>. Those words are on the tip of his tongue as he positions his cock at Joe’s hole and pushes in. </p><p>All the words in his head dissolve as Nicky buries himself deep inside Joe. There are no words to describe any of this. </p><p>It takes Nicky too long to move because he can hardly believe that he is <i>inside</i>Joe; that Joe is <i>around</i> him, all around him, tight and hot and amazing. He knows it takes him too long to move because Joe’s hands push at his back and slide down to his hips, grip his ass, his fingers slipping along the crease, gliding near enough to Nicky’s hole to make his muscles twitch in anticipation. Those fingers <i>squeeze</i> just as Joe grunts out ‘move, goddamnit’. Nicky does, because he truly does aim to please. He starts to thrust, slow at first, grinding, savoring every sensation but somehow he knows that slow is not what Joe needs right now. He quickly increases the pace. Nicky’s hips piston as his cock slams deep into Joe over and over again. He fucks into him hard, his arms trembling, head hanging, mouth slack, brain buzzing from all the stimulation. Nicky feels like he might pass out from all of it. </p><p>Right when it starts to feel like too much, Joe shifts, surging upwards to capture Nicky’s mouth with his, seemingly remembering that he can also kiss Nicky. Nicky’s slow brain remembers that kissing is really nice as their mouths crash together. This knocks Nicky slightly off balance and Nicky rocks backwards as he tries to keep from falling over, bracing himself with one arm while pulling Joe into his lap. Joe straddles him, legs planted on either side of Nicky’s hips and suddenly Joe is riding him. Nicky’s nervous system sparks and flares with the feel of it. He thrusts up into Joe, unable to manage anything other than short, sharp thrusts. It seems to work for Joe, who suddenly tips his head back and lets out a long, deep groan just as he reaches down to grip his own cock.  For just a moment Nicky thinks it’s impolite to leave Joe to his own devices like that. The thought is gone just as quickly as it occurs. Nicky keeps up those short, shallow, fast thrusts that seem to drive Joe crazy all while Joe jerks his cock hard and fast. Nicky’s hand fists the sheet under them as his orgasm starts to coalesce: that familiar tightening; the tingle that starts far away and grows and grows; the melt at the base of his belly. His hips lose their rhythm as the feelings build, then he feels his cock swell, and before he can stop himself from sounding like a bad porno, he grunts out ‘I’m coming’ then does exactly that. </p><p>A cry explodes out of somewhere deep inside, his eyes squeeze shut, mouth falls open, muscles seize up as he jerks up against Joe again and again, and it feels soooooo good, just so good, and Nicky is pretty sure he actually did just die.  </p><p>When Nicky finally comes back down he finds Joe jerking himself hard and faster as he chants ‘so good’ over and over, as if he can read Nicky’s mind. Nicky is barely done shaking when he sees Joe’s head snap forward, watches him jerk and shake as he comes, semen pulsing from his cock, all over Joe’s hand and Nicky’s belly. It’s the most amazing sight Nicky has ever seen. </p><p>“Thank you,” Joe whispers, as Nicky reaches up with eager hands to pull him down to him. Ignoring the slick mess that smushes between their bellies, Nicky wraps his arms around Joe and gathers him close enough that he can hear Joe's frantically beating heart. After a long moment like that, they roll and shift slowly until Nicky is on his side and Joe is curled around his back with one arm slung over his hip. Nicky savors the feel of Joe’s arms around him, the way their feet tangle, the warmth of skin against skin. He pushes back against Joe, trying to eliminate any space that might exist between them, relishing the way he can feel Joe breathe in and out. Nicky counts those inhalations, each one evidence of Joe’s beating heart, each one sending a thrill through Nicky. He’s such an idiot, lying there enthralled by Joe’s breathing. He doesn’t care. This is all he will get. There’s no more after this. The thought makes Nicky want to slide out of Joe’s arms and run far away, yet he makes no move to do anything else but lie there and keep counting those breaths. It’s only when Joe’s breathing slows and his arm goes lax and grows heavy that Nicky finally allows the tears he’s been holding to roll down his face. At some point he can no longer keep his eyes open. They drift shut and Nicky falls asleep in the paradise of Joe’s arns. </p><p>Whatever heartbreak Nicky thinks he’s in for doesn’t prepare him for Joe to wake up and apologize the next morning. </p><p>Nicky wakes before Joe and spends his time staring up at the ceiling trying to ignore how awful this situation is. Instead he engages in mental debate about whether having Joe hold him all night is the best thing ever or if it’s slightly less than best because it robbed him of the chance to stare at Joe while he slept. Just as he’s decided that if it’s slightly less best, it’s really only less by a truly infinitesimal amount, he feels Joe stir against his back, feels his fingers flex against the spot of skin on his hip they’ve been keeping warm. Nicky tries to ignore the twist in his stomach and focuses on the way his heart leaps. He shifts himself onto his back so he can finally look at Joe. He is not disappointed by what he sees. </p><p>It seems Joe wakes up with the most amazing bedhead Nicky has ever seen, and for a brief moment he doesn’t regret the last eight and a half years for all of the amazing fucking he’s missed nearly as much as all the amazing bedhead he hasn’t woken up to. He smiles as Joe blinks at him sleepily. Joe smiles back, a wide, soft grin, and for one brief moment Nicky thinks that maybe he’s wrong. Maybe it wasn’t about comfort last night. Maybe he can actually have this. </p><p>Joe sniffs a little “I stink,” he says, and this makes Nicky huff out a small chuckle. He wants to reach out and run his fingers through those unruly curls and tell Joe he’s truly a master of pillow talk. You know, the way he might if this was something else besides it is. Nicky suddenly feels happy and light, and just a little bit hopeful. </p><p>Then it all crashes down. </p><p>He watches as the gears in Joe’s head start to turn. His face shifts from sleepy to something else that Nicky doesn’t really want to define. Disturbed. Horrified. Maybe guilty. His eyes widen and his brows come together in a frown, and Nicky feels Joe start to move away. It takes all his willpower not to reach out and grab him, to pull Joe to him and refuse to let him go. Instead the warmth of Joe’s naked skin on his is replaced by a rush of cool air. </p><p>“Nicky,” Joe starts, his voice sounding strangled and miserable. “I’m… I’m sorry. I was drunk. I….” Joe’s voice trails off, as if he can’t think of anything else to say. </p><p>NIcky’s eyes sting. The phrase ‘I’m not’ repeats over and over in his head. He turns his head and stares up at the ceiling, afraid he is going to betray himself. “It’s okay,” Nicky finally manages, struggling to keep his voice even. “You needed it.”</p><p>Joe doesn’t answer. </p><p>They lie like that for a long time, close but not touching, Nicky staring anywhere but at Joe as he fights to keep himself in control, Joe saying nothing, the air filled with an awkward tension. It’s only broken when Joe’s goddamn cat jumps on the bed and yowls. </p><p>“I should feed him,” Joe says. </p><p>“I should go home.”</p><p>“You can shower.” </p><p>“And ruin my walk of shame?” Nicky jokes before he can stop himself, then immediately wants to take it back. Joe doesn’t answer. He shifts a bit then climbs out of bed, and Nicky can hear drawers opening and closing and he knows that Joe is pulling on the same worn pajamas and t-shirt he wears every Saturday morning. He hates that he knows this. He hates how much it hurts. He lies there for another moment, dreading getting out of bed - Joe’s bed - and dreading what comes next. Finally he manages to get up and finds his clothes where he’d left them scattered on the floor. Still naked, he makes his way into the bathroom, wets a washcloth and wipes down his torso to the point he at least stinks less like Joe’s come. When he’s done, Nicky peers at his image in the mirror. He looks… the same. There is nothing in the face staring back at him that says he slept with the man he’s loved for what feels like an eternity, nothing to say he just destroyed the best friendship he’s ever had. He looks… normal, as if last night never happened. Something about this thought hurts him. Something inside Nicky wants it to have happened and wants it to count, even if it means losing everything. Right then and there he resolves to walk out of Joe’s bedroom and tell him this, to lay himself bare, damn the consequences. Luckily his logical brain kicks in and by the time he emerges from the bedroom fully dressed he’s wearing his game face and smiles at Joe as if nothing ever happened. Joe is leaning against the counter of his nicely remodeled kitchen holding a steaming hot cup of coffee in his hand and watching Nicky with careful eyes. Nicky notices there is a second cup of coffee on the counter and for a brief moment he’s tempted to go grab it, stand next to Joe, to stay just a bit longer. </p><p>“I need… I need to get the garbage out.” </p><p>NIcky almost winces at how bad his excuse is. It’s Saturday. The garbage doesn’t come on Saturday. If Joe notices this inconsistency, he doesn’t bring it up. He just looks at Nicky and answers ‘okay’. Nicky crumbles even more on the inside as he pats the pockets of his jeans for the keys to the Prius. It's only when he's behind the steering wheel and has gotten a few blocks away from Joe’s house that he pulls over, drops his head into his hands and finally cries. </p><p>God damn it. </p><p>After he gets home, Nicky debates for around an hour about calling Nile. He knows if he calls, Nile will tell Andy. He’s pretty sure they’re sleeping together. This is primarily based on the picture Nile had sent him of a tattoo on the back of  Andy’s left shoulder a few months ago and it’s clear that the picture is from Andy’s bed. The reason he’s only pretty sure is it’s still possible Nile just snuck into Andy’s place just to win yet another stupid office bet, which makes her a creeper at a higher level than Nicky. </p><p>If Nile tells Andy, then Booker will know too, and Nicky is guessing there is money involved, knowing his coworkers. The saga of Nicky Loving Joe from a Distance will continue and he will never hear the end of it. </p><p>He calls Nile anyway, because the thought of being alone with all this is worse than dealing with those assholes at work. </p><p>“Nicoooooo,” Nile says before he can even say her name. She always calls him this. It’s their thing. Before she can say anything else, Nicky’s confession comes tumbling out. </p><p>“I slept with him.” </p><p>There’s a long silence before Nile says in a very careful voice, “Define ‘him’.” Nicky squeezes his eyes shut because it seems he’s not going to get away with not saying it aloud. </p><p>“Joe. I slept with Joe.” </p><p>More silence. </p><p>“Oh, Nicky.” </p><p>Nicky hears a voice in the background then he hears the sound of Nile setting her phone down and hears her say ‘they slept together’ followed by the other person, who Nicky now KNOWS is Andy, exclaim ‘finally’ followed by a small whoop.</p><p>“No, no, no,” Nicky says frantically, “It’s not like that. It’s not good” </p><p>God, he wishes it was good. He wants it to be good soooo badly. It’s terrible. It’s the worst. There is no good outcome here. </p><p>“So?” Nile asks as she returns to the phone. </p><p>“So, I left. He woke up and apologized, and I left. On a positive note, he and Patrick are done.” </p><p>“Do you want us to come over?” </p><p>
  <i>...us…</i>
</p><p>Nicky can’t answer immediately but he nods his head and finally whispers ‘yes’. </p><p>Thirty minutes later Nile and Andy are sitting in Nicky’s kitchen, Andy handing him her flask and Nile is listing off the five board games she’d arrived with, as if Splendor can mend a broken heart. </p><p>“Or we can watch a movie.” Niles says with a grin. </p><p>“I like movies,” Nicky says somewhat pathetically. </p><p>“We all know that, you idiot. That’s why I asked.”</p><p>Nicky smiles for the first time since leaving Joe’s. He feels better when they leave. Andy even hugs him and tells him she’s going to give him a few days off to get his head straight. Nicky is grateful. </p><p>Nicky doesn’t text Joe that day. Or the next. He normally would text him all sorts of random things: a good article he read, a funny meme, a picture of a particularly beautiful sunset or of the squirrels who like to romp around his backyard and that Nicky has grown particularly fond of. Things like that. None of it feels right. </p><p>Nile calls him every morning and asks if he’s still okay. Finally Nicky tells her that this isn’t his first rodeo. One cannot be madly in love with one’s best friend for close to a decade without developing some level of resiliency. By the time Tuesday comes around that resiliency has started to kick in a bit and Nicky feels a little less like he might die. On Wednesday the resiliency shifts into determination. He’s not going to let Joe go. Not without a fight and if Nicky is anything, he’s a fighter. This is why he decides to just ignore that fucking Joe ever happened. It’s a very good plan. </p><p>“You do know that this plan isn’t actually fighting for Joe, right?” Nile remarks on the speaker phone on Wednesday morning as Nicky is chopping onions in his kitchen. </p><p>“I’m fighting to keep my best friend.” </p><p>“By ignoring the elephant that’s filling the whole room and spilling out the goddamned front door. Riiiiiight.” </p><p>“I know what I’m doing,” Nicky says as he whisks flour into the butter he has bubbling in a saucepan on his stove. </p><p>“You’re an idiot.” Nile pauses for a moment. “Are you making a casserole?” </p><p>“No,” Nicky lies as he whisks furiously, watching the flour brown. </p><p>“You’re taking him Wednesday Dinner, aren’t you?”</p><p>“Maybe.” </p><p>Ever since Joe had finally retired from active duty and had come to live only ten minutes away from Nicky, Nicky has been making him what has become known as Wednesday Dinner. It was their thing. Sometimes Nile or Andy or Booker joined them. Most of the time it was just the two of them. They would talk and eat, then watch TV or a movie. Nicky can’t give up Wednesday Dinner and he can’t give up Joe, so the best solution seems to be he shows up with a hot casserole in hand, asks Joe if he made the same salad he always makes, and act as if nothing is remotely different since Friday. </p><p>When Nicky shows up on Joe’s doorstep and Joe opens the door looking somewhat miserable, the first thing out of his mouth is “You haven’t been at work.” </p><p>“Stomach flu,” Nicky lies. He extends his arms out and shows off his casserole. Joe’s favorite. He says it reminds him of growing up in the midwest and always educates Nicky that it’s really okay to use cream of chicken soup, he doesn’t have to make a bechamel every time. </p><p>“You haven’t texted.” </p><p>“Didn’t feel well,” Nicky lies again, flashing a fake smile. </p><p>“Things are better now?” </p><p>Things. Nicky isn’t sure if they’re talking about his fake stomach flu or the bigger picture of their friendship. He decides to answer for both. </p><p>“Yes.” </p><p>‘Yes’, his flu is better because he was never actually sick and ‘yes’ things are better because he’s standing on Joe’s porch just like he has every Wednesday for the last six months and this means nothing has changed despite the fact that they have now fucked. Best friends can fuck and be okay, right? Nicky watches Joe’s face start to relax in increments. “We’d better eat. This will be cold pretty soon.” </p><p>Joe nods dumbly then steps back to let Nicky brush by him. He sets the casserole on the stove and turns to Joe with a smile. “Salad?” he asks. Joe smiles back and Nicky feels something inside him start to unwind a little. This can be okay. </p><p>By the end of the evening they’ve both had a couple beers and Joe has declared the casserole the best yet and has also let Nicky in on his secret that the salad he always makes comes from a bag. They’ve watched a couple episodes of the latest Amazon original and Joe, being the more discerning one, has declared that it’s worthy enough to keep going. Nicky had smiled and promised to not watch any more episodes until the next Wednesday Dinner. There has been zero discussion of Patrick or comfort sex, Joe hasn’t apologized and Nicky hasn’t fallen to his knees and declared his undying love. It feels normal and when Nicky is standing on Joe’s porch saying goodnight, Joe reaches out and squeezes his arm. Nicky almost pulls away from the touch as it dances across his nerve endings and his brain pulls up images of Joe touching him in a lot of different ways. He swallows and manages to ignore the way Joe’s eyes are searching his face. </p><p>“Feeling better?” It’s both a question and a statement. Nicky nods. “Back in the office tomorrow?” </p><p>“Yeah.” Nicky hoists up the casserole pan under his arm and starts to turn to leave. A sense of relief floods through him. He made it through the night. </p><p>“Oh, Nicky?” </p><p>Nicky turns to look back at Joe. </p><p>“Joe?” </p><p>“I have tickets to this exhibit on Friday. It’s this really cool Arab artist. I was supposed to go with….” Joe’s voice trails off and for just a moment his face grows sad, then he recovers. “Um, well you know. I have an extra ticket.” </p><p>“Great.” Nicky isn’t sure if this is about Patrick or something else. </p><p>“I mean, do you want to go?” </p><p>Nicky blinks. He and Joe are usually about dinner, TV on the couch, maybe a movie now and then, but this sounds fun too. </p><p>“Sure,” Nicky answers. “Want me to drive? I mean, if you don’t mind being seen in The Prius.” </p><p>Joe laughs. “Sure. Indian first?”</p><p>“Oh, YES,” Nicky says. He also adds ‘perfect’, because he wants nothing more than to watch Joe shovel butter chicken into that beautiful mouth, and talk about whatever comes into their minds. He almost trips up and says ‘it’s a date’ but manages to stop himself. Instead he smiles and says ‘see you then’. </p><p>This time when Nicky drives away from Joe’s house all he can do is smile. </p><p>The exhibit starts what Nile calls their Dating Period. Wednesday Dinner still happens but now they also eat out on Fridays sometimes, and Nicky convinces Joe they should get tickets to a local theater festival. It’s always been Nicky and Joe to some degree but now it’s ONLY Nicky and Joe. Joe doesn’t start seeing anyone new, or go on any of the various dating apps on his phone, or even hit up the clubs. Neither does Nicky, but that’s nothing new for him. He’d given up pretending to date ages ago and even the occasional hookup has become boring. If he needs to get off, his hand works and comes with zero human complications besides Nicky’s own thoughts. Plus that one night has given Nicky remarkable wank material since he no longer has to imagine what it might feel like to kiss Joe. </p><p>“I used to think that you were the idiot and Joe was just oblivious, but now I’m pretty sure you both are the idiots.” </p><p>“Do you wake up prepared to chastise me?” </p><p>“No. Andy does and then she makes me call you.” </p><p>“What are you doing for Thanksgiving?” </p><p>“Nothing. Want to come over? No, actually, want to cook?” </p><p>Nicky rolls his eyes, but yes, he wants to cook. </p><p>Thanksgiving is at Andy’s with Joe, Nicky, Nile and Booker all sitting around a table loaded with too much food, drinking wine and telling stories from their times serving in various militaries all over the world. Nile has her goddamned board games, Andy sips from her flask, and Nicky can’t help but love both of them. At the end of the night Joe drives Nicky home and Nicky sits in silence, his head fuzzy from a little too much wine, his heart full and happy. </p><p>Spring brings a road trip to Vegas. Joe tells Nicky he’s never been to Vegas, that an immigrant kid growing up in Michigan doesn’t usually visit the city of sin. </p><p>“Not even for a high school senior trip?” </p><p>“I was in Egypt my senior year,” Joe answers. Nicky’s brows come together as he remembers Joe mentioning this in the past. </p><p>“Well then,” Nicky chuckles. “I guess we need to go.” </p><p>Joe insists on driving, telling Nicky that The Prius will never get them there since it struggles to break 60 MPH. Nicky books them two rooms with only a twinge of regret and enjoys watching Joe drive as the wind from the open window of Joe’s Jeep whips his hair around. Vegas is wonderful because Joe loves all the shine and lights, and if Joe is happy, so is Nicky. </p><p>One year from what Nicky has come to call The Event in his head, he realizes that he’s happy. Actually happy. Whatever this is, it’s far better than whatever he had before. He’s not even pining. Well, not THAT much. </p><p>“You’re full of shit,” Nile says when Nicky tells her this over lunch one day. They’re standing outside a food truck that sits down the street from the office, shoving street tacos into their mouths before they have to get to the next meeting. “I swear I almost caught you writing ‘Mr. Nicky Al-Kaysani’ in a notebook last week. How is that not pining?” </p><p>Nicky sputters with indignation. That is a total lie. He would never give up his last name. Still, it does sound nice. He quickly pushes that thought away. </p><p>“I mean,” Nile says around a bite of taco, “How is this sustainable? Don’t you want more?” </p><p>Fear rises in Nicky’s throat. He did want more once. He’d wanted so much more, but then he almost lost it all, and now the idea of wanting more scares him. It’s as if the act of wanting would make him lose everything. </p><p>“No,” Nicky lies. “I don’t want more.” </p><p>Nile is right. It’s totally unsustainable. If Nicky stopped to think for even a moment he would know she is right. He can’t, because it feels like his only option other than this limbo is to lose everything, and Nicky can’t bear that. In the end, it doesn’t matter because it’s not his choice. Someone else makes it for him. Someone named Andy. </p><p>There’s nothing special about that particular evening, the one where everything comes crashing down on him. Nicky is tired so his dinner is a beer and a bowl of cereal. He watches some TV on his couch and texts Joe a few inane things because he’s bored and a little lonely. Joe texts back that he’s out with Andy. Nicky frowns a bit at this. It’s unusual because Andy is their boss but it’s her prerogative if she wants to take one of her employees out to dinner. Nicky pities Joe a bit because he knows from office lunches that Andy will no doubt hog all the chutney. Nile has complained about it more than once as well. After watching a couple political comedy shows and reading the whole NYT Television section trying to find something new to watch, Nicky finally decides to just go to bed. Yes, it’s only nine in the evening but he’s an old man who has no social life and there’s no one in his house to tell him not to just go to sleep, so he might as well. He’s about to drift off to sleep when he hears the knock on the door. He picks up his phone and checks his front door camera to make sure he doesn’t need to grab the gun he leaves tucked under the mattress and sees that it’s Joe. </p><p>
  <i>Joe.</i>
</p><p>Nicky frowns at seeing Joe on his front porch. He rolls out of bed and considers grabbing his robe, but it’s Joe and Joe being on his porch without texting could mean something’s wrong. Nicky flips through possible scenarios as he makes his way to his front door. Something happened to Joe’s mom and he has to fly to Michigan. No, maybe it’s Andy. Andy fired Joe. <br/>That’s why she took him out for dinner. No, that’s absurd. Andy has too much money riding on her various bets around Nicky’s non-relationship with Joe to fire him. Maybe Joe is just dropping by to say hi and share some leftovers. Nicky is thoroughly confused by the time he opens the door, just before Joe can knock a second time. What comes out of Joe’s mouth confuses him even more. </p><p>“You never date.” </p><p>Nicky blinks. His eyebrows come together in a frown. Joe is standing on his porch in the dark to discuss… his dating life. His mind spins as he tries to make sense of this sudden turn of events. </p><p>“I date,” Nicky says dumbly, knowing it’s a lie and one that’s easily disproved. Joe frowns at him. </p><p>“You hook up.” </p><p>Nicky almost laughs at this. He doesn’t even do that much these days and for one crazy moment he wants to turn this line of inquiry back on Joe and ask him why HE doesn’t date, but there’s part of Nicky that doesn’t want to know the answer. He’s afraid it might have to do with a certain person whose name starts with P and Joe’s broken heart. He opens his mouth to say something then closes it again. Instead he just stares at Joe, focuses on him, and he starts to understand what Joe is really asking and where it might lead. Nicky wants more than anything to run away but he’s been in these types of situations more times than he can count, moments when the fear is almost overwhelming but you still need to maintain focus, still need to take the shot. </p><p>Fuck. </p><p>Neither says anything as they stand there with the moon shining down on them and the sounds of a quiet night in suburbia floating through the air. Nicky’s heart hammers in his ears and he thinks he should do something. He should push Joe away and slam the door shut, or maybe grab Joe and pull him to him and hold him like he might never let him go. Or something in between, he’s not sure. Then Joe opens his mouth and tells him he thinks they should go inside and it’s the most sensible of all Nicky’s options.</p><p>“I think I need a beer,” Nicky responds with a sardonic twist of his mouth. A beer. Or a lobotomy. Something like that. </p><p>Joe goes to the couch. The couch they bought together. The couch that Nile tells him might as well be an engagement ring, which always makes Nicky punch her. Nicky goes to the kitchen. His kitchen. The one where he has created countless Wednesday Dinners, has popped popcorn for movies, has made a cup of coffee for himself and one for Joe. That one. He opens the fridge and grabs a beer for himself and one for Joe. Joe’s favorite beer. The one Nicky keeps stocked in his fridge. For a moment he wonders what it would be like if he did date. What would someone else think of this life he’s built around his best friend. Isn’t it obvious that Nicky can’t date? Not when he’s this tangled up in Joe. What if that’s what Joe is asking. What if he’s about to tell him that it’s all too much, that being best friends is holding Nicky back. What if it’s all over? </p><p>NIcky is a brave man. He has been through hell. He has fought people, taken lives. He has done all of this as a professional and there has not been one time when he thought he might not pull through. Now, standing in his kitchen, his fridge door open, it occurs to him that this is the first time he has felt he might not survive. He sucks in a deep breath, cracks open the beers then walks into his living room to meet his fate. </p><p>Joe is sitting on the couch watching him. He hands the beer to Joe who takes it from him then looks at the bottle with a strange fondness. Joe does like his beer. Nicky settles on the opposite end, pulling a leg under himself and takes a long swig. </p><p>“So…” Nicky says, his mouth dry despite the beer. </p><p>“You don’t date,” Joe says again. He’s not drinking his beer. He’s just watching Nicky, his face unreadable. </p><p>“No,” Nicky agrees, then adds “Not really.” Nile would tell him he dates. Nile would tell him he dates JOE. Nile is annoying. </p><p>“Why?”</p><p>It's a reasonable question. Nicky picks at the label of his beer bottle. There is no good answer that won’t blow everything wide open. He looks at Joe and decides to give himself one more chance to save their friendship, one last offramp to this conversation. </p><p>“Do you really want to know?” </p><p>Please say no, Nicky prays. Please, please just say no. Then we can just keep going like this. It’s not perfect. It’s actually pretty awful if he stops to think about it. But it’s something and if this conversation keeps going they are going to end up with nothing.</p><p>Joe doesn’t say ‘no’. Nicky thinks for a long moment then answers in a way that he knows is utter bullshit, a last ditch attempt to not go down this path, the one he knows he cannot turn back from. </p><p>“Because I don’t want to.” </p><p>Joe startles slightly at this answer.</p><p>“Why don’t you want to?”</p><p>It seems that Joe isn’t going to take the offramp Nicky is offering him after all. </p><p>“Joe… ” Nicky almost pleads. </p><p>“Why, Nicky?” </p><p>Nicky’s brain scrambles for another half truth but he lands on nothing that doesn’t sound obvious. He stares at Joe who stares back. It’s too much and finally Nicky looks away and stares at the blank screen of the TV, his thoughts spinning around and around in his head like a roulette wheel as he tries to land on something he can say, anything that won’t make everything that much worse. Tears sting his eyes as he starts to realize that there is nothing left except the thing he’s been avoiding for almost a decade. Joe says his name again and Nicky turns back to look at Joe, who is watching him with a combination of determination and patience painted on his face. His Joe. His dear, sweet, sexy, smart, amazing Joe. Nicky studies his face for a long moment because he knows he’s going to need Joe’s face imprinted on his memory for the days ahead when it’s all he has. He sucks in a long, deep breath and then he tells Yusuf Al-Kaysani, the most amazing guy on the face of this earth, the truth. </p><p>“Because I’m in love with you.” </p><p>Nicky closes his eyes and waits for Joe to gasp in horror, or to exclaim he was totally surprised or to get up and leave. He opens them to find none of that has happened and Joe is still there, sitting on his couch, watching him. </p><p>“Nicky.” </p><p>“You asked,” Nicky says, his chest hurting. He wants to surge forward and grab Joe, shake him, tell him that if he hadn’t wanted to ruin things he should just have let things stay as they were, should never have even wondered why Nicky never dated. He feels angry and scared and every other emotion in between, and all he wants is for Joe to get on with it, then he can leave and Nicky can call Nile and cry and he can start rebuilding a life without Joe. </p><p>Joe does none of that. Instead he says Nicky’s name. Nicky’s full name. The one he’s only heard from Joe now and then. </p><p>“Nicolo.” </p><p>There is no anger; no betrayal. No, there is love. He says his name with LOVE, as if he loves him. Nicky chokes back a sob.</p><p>“Don’t,” Nicky begs. Don’t say his name like that, like Nicky is wrong and Joe loves him after all. Like ten years of pining might not have been for nothing. Don’t say it as if Joe will actually stay and hold him and kiss him and love him. Just don’t….</p><p>Joe doesn’t listen. <i>He doesn’t listen.</i> Nicky manages a small, hopeful smile as his heart starts to soar. </p><p>Three hours later, Nicky texts Nile from his bed. The one that has a naked Joe in it, his head is resting on Nicky’s shoulder. </p><p>
  <i>I’m an idiot.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Ha. No fucking kidding. Pretty much a known fact.</i>
</p><p>Nicky smiles as he cards his fingers through Joe’s hair. </p><p><i>An idiot who’s in love.</i> Nicky pauses for a moment then adds <i>...and is thoroughly fucked</i> Just to make sure he’s being clear. </p><p>His phone is quiet for a moment until Nicky sees the three dots that indicate Nile is responding. When she does it’s about thirteen different emojis followed by <i>Joe?</i></p><p>
  <i>Who else?</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Goddamn it.</i>
</p><p><i>I thought this would be good news.</i> </p><p><i>Well yes, except now I’m out a grand.</i> </p><p>Nicky smiles. </p><p>“Who’s that?” Joe asks, his breath hot on Nicky’s skin. </p><p>“Oh, just Nile.” </p><p>“You told her?” </p><p>“Yup.” </p><p>“And she’s happy?” </p><p>“Yes, she’s happy.” </p><p>Joe chuckles softly. “But poorer.” </p><p>Nicky huffs out a small laugh. Yes. Andy may have won that bet but it seems the real winners are Nicky and Joe. Sometimes being an idiot in love actually pays off.</p><div class="center">
  <p>~fin~</p>
</div>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Please feel free to leave a comment. I like them as much as Nicky loves to whip up a nice bechamel to feed Joe.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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